This week I find myself running to the mailbox. I say it’s for Aidan’s sake because his birthday is Saturday, but if I’m really honest, I’ll say it’s for my sake too. My birthday is tomorrow. I’m a little homesick thinking about it. I know it shouldn’t matter a snitch where in the world I celebrate my birthday, but it does. I miss Dallas. I miss my friends:
and SO MANY MORE
I miss things:
my neighborhood with my lovely neighbors
my old house
the familiarity of an American grocery store
the friendliness of proprietors
my dear, dear church
knowing where I’m going
my automatic minivan
straight streets where my kids DON’T get carsick
my children’s amazing schools
my children’s sweet friends
a daily newspaper in English
my newspaper column
a bookstore…oh how I miss bookstores
the warmer weather
mail every day, even if it’s junk mail
understanding what other people say in public settings
casual banter among friends
phone calls just because
my sweet, praying hairdresser Michelle
my children enjoying school
the sheer amount of Christians
friends who really, really know me and understand me
our neighborhood swimming pool
bike riding without hills!
the hopefulness of Americans
a home with a big yard
summer camps for my children
I could go on, but then I’d get sadder!
I am content here. I’ve adopted the motto “Bloom where you’re planted.” But there are days like today when the mailbox is empty and I realize that part of my heart is severed and living in another part of the world. It’s all a part of the grieving process of moving and transition. I don’t know if my heart will ever be reunited. I hope so. Moving rips away at me, giving me a hounding for heaven.
In heaven, I’ll be home. My friends will be there. I’ll have a permanent dwelling. There will be no more goodbyes. And maybe, just maybe, the streets will be paved with Junior mints.